The Man Clad in Black: Book Two

Injuries - Chapter 28

Everything began to move slowly— so slowly, in fact, that time itself seemed to crawl to a halt. The scene you were greeted with looked a little like this: Francois was reaching over in a last-minute attempt to snag the gun, Erik was glancing over his shoulder to see what was going on, and Peter was pointing his gun right at you.

Everything went back to speed when you crumpled to the floor.

"He shot her!" a voice— whom you were quick to recognize as Antoine's— called out. "Someone, come quick!"

You were so in shock that you didn't understand a damned thing that was going on— but when you felt a pair of arms struggling to hold you up, it seemed as if everything hit you all at once.

Francois was quick to push past Erik.

"What the hell did you do?" he said, almost immediately rushing to see how much damage had been done. In a non-romantic way, he held your face in his hands, searching for any sign of movement... while your head lolled to the side, he saw that a tear had rolled down your cheek. You didn't even realize you were crying.

"Oh, thank God," he muttered. Your chest was burning like crazy. It hurt to do so much as breathe— you thought you were about to pass out until you saw Erik storm over.

Instead of saying anything, however, he crouched down, reached into Francois' pocket, and pulled out his gun. It hardly took a moment before he shot Peter back— and while you couldn't see it, he had shot him spot on in the chest.

You felt a sudden presence of people crowd around you.

"Was it the ghost who shot her?" one woman asked.

"No, imbecile— that other detective," someone else murmured, their voice slowly becoming softer as they marched over to Box Five. You assumed said person was fascinated by the now-injured Peter. While the damned man was still breathing, there was only one or two people that stayed to help him— everyone else was more shocked to see you.

Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment. Your lungs began to burn, your skin began to prickle, and you felt your head lolling to the side. Those muffled voices turned into an annoying ring. It seemed like closing your eyes had made the rest of your body shut down, and you could almost feel—

"Look at me, [Y/N]."

Erik.

Your tried to blink your eyes open again. It was the most difficult thing you had to do in a while... but once your eyes finally managed to open up, everything was a giant blur— but you knew Erik was there.

"Come on... stay with me.."

Your lips pricked up into a weak smile... and his did, too.

"Good, good," he said. He sighed with relief for just a second before glancing up at everyone around him, and he suddenly grew quite angry again. "Bloody hell, you imbeciles— someone go get a medic! The Prima Donna is bleeding out here!"

Your chest began hurt even more as you felt yourself being lifted up just a bit, though the pain subsided just a little when you felt yourself being placed on Erik's lap.

He completely ignored the fact that his hands became red with blood. Instead, his fingers caressed your hair and tucked it behind your ear.

"[Y/N], keep looking at me," he said softly. You didn't realize that your eyes had closed again until he had said something about it.

You opened your eyes, and while Erik was pleased with the fact that you were still responding, it suddenly became even harder to breathe. Well, you couldn't breathe— it felt like someone was deliberately stepping on your chest, and you were quick to realized that your breathing became quite shallow.

"C'mon, [Y/N]," he muttered. It was horribly difficult to listen to his voice, especially when everyone around you was chatting loudly about how terrified they were (had you not literally been dying, you'd have scoffed and rolled your eyes). How ridiculous.

"What's he still staying for?" an obnoxious voice asked. You didn't have the strength to open your eyes again and see the fat noblewoman watching you closely. "He's killed people before. Why does he care now if—"

Erik's head pricked up.

"Shut up, or I won't hesitate to gut you like the pig you are," he threatened.

The woman didn't stop talking. She was more hushed, of course, but that wasn't saying much. Had you not been literally wheezing, you could have easily overheard her speaking.

"Margaret, did you know, I was there when he killed Buquet?" she said... almost as if she was bragging. "I remember it clear as day."

"Should've been you, Susannah," another woman— who sounded much, much older— remarked quite snarkily. "At least then my son wouldn't have had to marry your sorry ass."

The other woman, who was now embarrassed to the point of talking even more, was blushing profusely.

"Well, if you..."

You had been so caught up on trying to figure out what she was ranting about that you had forgotten where you were.

"Eyes, [Y/N]," Erik said. You managed to snap your eyes open once again— and this time, your vision began to clear up... it might have been for just a brief moment, but just seeing his face made your heart give a little leap in your chest.

"Can you... sing to me?" you whispered between a heavy, raspy breath. You began to squirm for a moment, a sudden wave of pain washing over you, and Erik was quick to hold you close to him.

"What was that?" he asked. As if he knew exactly what you were asking of him, and just so you wouldn't have to speak up, he leaned in closer so you could whisper into his ear. He didn't mind that you weakly placed a hand on his face to pull him towards you.

"Just sing for... a bit," you said. That was right when you felt the sudden urge to cough, and once you rolled over to let it out, you were almost certain you were dying— your lungs burned and your eyes watered, and you clutched onto your dress as you crumpled over with agony.

"A medic's on his way," someone said. It was almost muffled in your ears, though, as you were too busy trying to swallow the blood that had washed up in your mouth.

Erik panicked for a moment— but when your jagged breathing had returned, he clutched onto you like his own life depended on it."

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime..."

Your hand weakly shot up to his face... Even when he was distraught, his voice was wonderful.

"Lead me, save me from my solitude..."

You wouldn't have known he was crying had you not felt a tear roll down his cheek— and of course, you reached over to wipe it away for him. You knew that he hated being vulnerable in front of strangers.

"Share each day with me, each night, each morning..."

You had weakly tried to sing along— but thanks to the fact that your lung was collapsing at the moment, that was near impossible. All that came out was a squeak or two, and you could only mouth the rest of the words.

"Promise me that all you say is true... Love me..."

He began to break down. It had gotten to the point that he couldn't even mutter the last words— seeing you in such a horrible position made him feel completely and utterly defeated. His voice was entirely locked in his throat by that point...

So, instead, he kissed you.